The Darkness and Dogs

by Lanchbery, T. S.

  At least an hour passes before Lowell sees any moment. He has just been considering moving in for a closer look, when he sees the heavy door at the back of the farmhouse swing open, and a moment later a group of five emerge into the yard. A man and a woman step out first, guns held to their sides, cautiously surveying the surrounding buildings and the edge of the field before indicating to the others that it is safe. Lowell can’t be certain from a distance, but he feels confident they are Heather and Bill, and feels an unexpected sense of relief that it hadn’t been their bodies he had seen in the house. Next up is Walter, there is no mistaking him, his distinctive ring of hair and pale crown standing out even from afar. Last to emerge are two women; one he doesn’t recognize, the other he feels certain is Bea. At the sight of Walter’s daughter, Lowell’s heart leaps, relieved that she too has not been one of those unfortunates who have been taken by the disease. For the next few minutes, the group stands by the door in urgent and apparently heated conversation, with what seems to Lowell to be some disagreement about what they should do next.

  After some time, they appear to reach an agreement, and Heather and Bea peel off from the rest and begin to walk towards the field. Lowell sees Walter shout after them, and then run over to Bea to lay one hand on her shoulder, evidently with some words of tender caution, before he lets them continue on their way. Bea and Heather both carry with them two buckets, and Lowell casts his eyes forward in the direction they are travelling, through a small path through the long grass - so overgrown that it is still standing tall even above several feet of snow - and on to where a small stretch of woodland abuts the furthest edge of the field. He guesses that this holds a stream from which they will fetch water, and he notes how the line of trees extend all of the way along to a point where it seems they must join on to the lane in which he lies.

  For a moment he is torn between two options; either to head down to the farmhouse immediately to try to talk to Walter, or – remembering the way Bea had handled the adults before – whether to walk down to the stream after the women, take his chances in making a plea to her first before returning to Walter. Both plans are fraught with the danger of misinterpretation, of his intentions being misunderstood, and for a moment he lifts his rifle and plays the sight over Walter instead, and finds that somewhere deep inside he still feels a longing to just pull the trigger. Lowell shudders, and then draws the barrel of the gun back around, and trains it on the back of Heather. As he watches the pair continue on toward the woods, he lies still and weighs his options, watching absent-mindedly as the wind plays through the long grass close to their position. Next to where they walk, but nowhere else. Lowell frowns with puzzlement, and then feels a sudden burst of adrenaline, as his brain makes the connection faster than he is able to consciously register. Too late, Lowell realizes what he is seeing and, even as he frantically raises his gun to fire off a warning shot he sees several dark shapes bearing in unerringly for their attack. Lifting his gun up, he fires one shot into the air, a loud crack that shatters the silence of the scene and then rolls back and forth across the landscape. At the sound of the shot, Heather just has time to turn around, to register the sound, and then turn with a look of terrible surprise on her face as the first of the dogs break from the grass and slam into her side.

  Chapter Forty-One

  After firing his shot, Lowell freezes, his whole body paralyzed with terror as he watches the next few seconds play out seemingly in slow motion in front of him. The first dog has knocked Heather off balance, sending her gun flying from her grasp and away into the overgrowth. As she stumbles for her footing she staggers over to the other side of the path, and just manages to turn and face the dog before another pounces from behind, immediately sinking its teeth into her calf and then dragging her powerfully backwards until she is forced forward onto one leg. Hearing a scream, Lowell tears his gaze away from the stricken woman and looks toward the courtyard. The other woman is frozen in shock too, and standing motionless by the door, but Walter is already in action, sprinting towards the field, and fumbling frantically with his gun as he runs. Less than halfway across he stops and raised his weapon, and a moment later Lowell sees three more dogs emerge from the field ahead to block Walter’s path. Two of the dogs are indistinct, medium sized, and hard to make out from where he now stands, but the third Lowell would recognize anywhere as the Shih Tzu. The tiny dog surges forward, yapping furiously, barreling ahead of the others with its trademark reckless bravery in defiance of its reduced stature. This time though, it’s fearlessness is its undoing, as Walter backpedals in surprise for less than a second before lifting his gun, and then with stunning accuracy, or more likely luck, he delivers a bullet straight through the skull of his charging target, sending the dog’s small body flying backwards through the air where it drops still to the ground. At the sight of their fallen comrade, the other two dogs stop dead in their tracks, hesitate for a second and then plunge back into the long grass, the slower of the two just avoiding the second bullet from Walter’s gun as he resumes his advance and stalks steadily towards the field.

  As Lowell finally wills himself to jump to his feet, he looks back towards the field. Somehow, despite her wounds, Heather has continued to fight, and is now standing in a low stoop, knife drawn, holding off her two attackers as they circle and wait for a gap in her defenses. Lowell scans left and right across the field, his panic continuing to rise until finally he is able to locate Bea, close to the far end of the field. To his immense relief, he sees that she has taken off immediately - with the sharpened instincts of one born into this deadly game - and is running fast and closing in quickly towards the cover of the trees. As he watches her run, the thought that has been needling away at the back of his mind suddenly surfaces and is answered in the same instant. He had wondered why he hadn’t seen any sign of the Alpha, and now, right on cue, he sees the massive dog streaking at full speed along the edge of the woods, on a bearing to intercept Bea. At the sight of the Alpha, the paralysis that has gripped Lowell drains away and he finds himself running at full pace down the lane towards the trees. At once, Venus surges alongside him and then draws out in front, as if she instinctively knows his plan. As they race past the farmhouse, Lowell glances across to see Walter fire another shot, taking down the Bernese as it springs out to ambush him in the field, and then Lowell is past him, lungs bursting as he gives everything to reach Walter’s daughter in time.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Lowell just has time to see Venus plunge into the trees ahead and disappear out of sight before he makes the edge of the woods himself and races through without stopping. As he reaches the position he had last seen her heading towards, there is no sign of either Bea or the Alpha. His lungs are bursting and he forces himself to stop and put his hands on his knees, panting wildly, as he searches the ground for any clue as to where they have gone. It doesn’t take him long to pick up the trail; deep footprints in the snow and a clear path of destruction where Bea has weaved her way out of the reach of the dog, and then the subtle shallow imprints of the Alpha in full flight close behind. Picking his way along through the forest after the tracks, he hears the Alpha long before he sees him, an angry, frustrated growl that echoes through the woods up ahead.

  Pacing gently forward, Lowell emerges into a clearing. He sees Bea immediately, clinging on to a low bough of a White Ash and shaking with fear, the Alpha snarling at the base and lunging up again and again to try to grab her, each time narrowly missing her trailing leg. As Lowell watches the Alpha jump, he slowly raises his gun from his side, and carefully aims towards the back of the dog’s skull. In the second before he fires, the Alpha turns, their eyes meet, Lowell hesitates, and in an instant, the dog has spun nimbly and is racing across the clearing towards him. Backpedalling with fear, Lowell loses the upper hand, and his gun jerks wildly as he fires off a blind, panicked shot that misses several feet to the left of the animal’s head. Before he can reload, the dog leaps forward, striking him with the full weight o
f its great head and knocking him off his feet. As he falls backwards, Lowell kicks out and strikes the dog on the side of its head, gaining himself only a second before it renews its assault, grabbing his right arm in its huge jaws and savagely tearing it from side to side. Again, Lowell kicks out as hard as he can, this time catching the dog full in the face and causing it to let go of his arm and back away slightly. For a second, Lowell and the Alpha stare at each other with mutual hatred, and then Lowell looks away, glancing sadly at first his gun, lying just out of reach on the ground, and then at Bea as she stares back at him, wide-eyed in the tree. As he sees the Alpha leap towards him out of the corner of his eye, Lowell gives Bea a rueful smile, and then he closes his eyes.

  A familiar, fierce bark sounds to Lowell’s side, a rush of air passes in front of his face, and he hears a frustrated, pained yelp from the Alpha close off to his right. Opening his eyes, he blinks madly as he struggles to make out the new scene in front of him. The Alpha lies on the ground on his side, struggling desperately to free himself from the savage beast that has leapt from nowhere and now pins him to the ground, ripping and tearing at his throat with razor-sharp teeth. It is Venus. Lowell feels a swell of love, elation and pride that is as quickly supplanted by fear and concern as it becomes clear that, despite the terrible wounds she has inflicted, Venus is no match for the Alpha. After a momentary struggle he manages to gain enough purchase with one paw to raise himself up, roll over and lift his enormous frame from the ground, throwing his weight against Venus as he comes up with sufficient force that she is thrown several feet clear through the air. In an instant, both dogs are back on their feet, bristling and growling as they size each other up. Despite their substantial difference in size, Venus refuses to back down and faces him nobly, her hair standing on end and a ferocious growl issuing forth that chills even Lowell to the bone. As it prepares to charge, the Alpha issues an outraged snarl at the audacity of his challenger, he drops one shoulder ready to lunge, and then lets out an unexpected startled yelp. He tenses, remains still for a moment, sways ever so slightly, and then drops to the ground, the bullet Lowell has fired from his position a foot away on the ground lodged firmly in his skull.

  For the next few seconds nobody moves, and then Lowell drops the gun to the ground. Lying on his back, he lifts his arm up to inspect the spot where the Alpha has bitten him, and relief floods through him as he sees how the thick padding of the heavy winter coat, now torn to shreds around his wrist, has narrowly saved him from a fatally infectious wound. As Venus trots over, he grips hold of the fur on her neck and laughs with delight, pulling her close to nuzzle into his chest. Lifting his head up, he sees Bea stare anxiously over at him, and then begin to climb slowly down from the tree. Extricating himself from Venus’s embrace, Lowell climbs wearily to his feet, and then stands staring at Walter’s daughter, as she eyes him cautiously in turn from a few meters away. She is still shaking, and it is clear from her wide, frightened eyes, that she doesn’t know what to make of him, or for that matter Venus, who now stands off to his side, panting with delight, her mouth covered in the blood of her foe.

  After a long moment, Lowell steps forward, raising his hands up with palms forward to show that he means her no harm. As he does so, he sees her eyes swivel between him and Venus, and then flick over to his arm and widen in alarm. Seeing her fear, Lowell turns his arm to show her that he is unbitten, and then he pauses, his heart lurches wildly, as he sees a great swell of blood slowly seeping up and outwards through the material on his wrist.

  As soon as he sees the blood pooling on his sleeve, and Bea starts to gradually back away from him, Lowell’s eyes begin to mist over, and a great urge to be sick rises up from his stomach. A short way off Bea still stares at him, fixing him with a look - a curious mixture of pity, gratitude, and undisguised fear - that exactly mirrors his own feelings. His mouth opens and closes a few times, and then, before he can say a word, she turns and paces hurriedly away. For a moment, Lowell considers shouting after her, but then, as he watches her walk off towards the field, he sees Walter standing anxiously in the long grass waiting for her. As Walter looks over towards him, their eyes meet, hold for a second, and then, almost imperceptibly, Walter nods. Lowell stares back impassively for a second, conflicted, dizzy with rising pain and grief. He watches despondently as Bea reaches Walter and falls with relief into his arms, and then Lowell’s shoulders drop, he catches Walter’s eye one last time and, raising his bloodied arm to half height, he waves faintly. His anger now gone, his fight all spent, his rising hope discarded, he just stares and then turns and walks away.

  *****

  “Years ago – of course it was years ago, almost everything of note happened years ago – just before my father died, I travelled to Munich for an international conference featuring all of the brightest minds (and the executives) at our company. I spoke to a very excitable young scientist from our bioengineering arm, and I remember he was very worked up about a new project they were working on. They believed that they had isolated one of the genes within the DNA of rats responsible for the aging process. He told me that it could be switched on and off at will, and firmly believed that within his lifetime they would be able to control all of the necessary genes within humans to essentially reverse or suspend aging for those with the means to afford it. At the time I was swept along in his enthusiasm, and as one of those who could have most definitely afforded such a procedure I would have been one of the first to sign up I’m sure. Now though, as I stare Death in the face, and can feel His cold fingers gripping my arm and pulling me away, I find that I am eager to go with Him, that I respond to His coming as one would to the arrival of a much delayed train – I glance at my watch with consternation and exclaim ‘finally’! I am not ancient – at least not by the old standards – but I am weary, world-weary, and fed up of the memories. I think of Beth, and imagine her dying moments. I imagine lying beside her, each of us bloating and writhing in agony, and reaching out my clawed swollen hands, holding on to hers and letting go, and I know that I am the only one to blame for the fact that I couldn’t have found my peace sooner.”

  Chapter Forty-Four

  For the following hour, Lowell trudges determinedly on, anxious to put as much distance between him and the group as he possibly can. At the path, Lowell pauses briefly, looks up towards the point where he had left their vehicle, then turns the other way, following the lane to its end, and then carries on over seemingly endless fields of white. Even after all of the times he has seen other succumb to the virus, he still isn’t ready for the speed with which it begins to affect him. At first, within half an hour of leaving the barn, it is his coordination; each step is a challenge, a marvel of optical trickery, as first the ground seems to fall away from him, and then on his next movement his foot suddenly meets it and jars painfully on the frozen soil while he would swear it was still poised in mid-air. On each of the first few times that happens, and he falls forward into the snow, he lifts himself back up, assuring himself that he is just weary from his exertions and will soon recover his faculties, but eventually he is forced to accept the truth; this is definitely the end.

  Lowell’s repeated stumbling and falling down is of no concern to Venus, she has seen it before and is not to know that this is any different, and she seems to trust in her ability to rouse him and urge him onwards. After her victory over the hated Alpha, she seems ecstatic, and skips through the snow excitedly, filled with a surfeit of leftover energy from the surge of adrenaline she experienced during the fight. Each time she sees Lowell fall, she runs back to him, licking and pulling enthusiastically until eventually he groans and pushes forward. After two hours, as they stagger past a large, open fronted barn on the far side of a large field, Lowell falls once again and blacks out for a moment. With everything he has he wills himself on, but it is all he can do to stand up. Breathing heavily, each lungful an agony, he turns around to look back along the way he has come, and then slumps back down onto the snow with dismay as he
sees the farm still mockingly close, less than two miles back over the fields. With a great effort, he lifts himself back to his feet, and stumbles over to the entrance to the barn. Inside, he sees two great hulking metal monstrosities, some giant agricultural machines with great teeth on enormous steel wheels, fused with rust from their years of neglect. Shuffling slowly over to a workbench that runs along one side of the barn, he hoists his pack off of his shoulder and dumps it down. Working with great concentration, he opens the pack, brings out each of the items inside, and carefully arranges them in a row along the bench. With this done he pauses, picks out a can of food, and looks around for Venus, surprised not to find her waiting expectantly next to him at the first sign of a meal. Walking painfully back to the door, he glances outside.

  With Lowell’s vision increasingly distorted, it takes him a long moment before he can locate her, standing, frozen in place, a short distance in front of the barn. One paw is poised in mid-air, both ears are cocked up, and her gaze is fixed on a point several feet away. Confused, Lowell takes a step forward, and as he does so a rabbit leaps out from its hiding place in the snow and shoots away across the field, Venus in close pursuit behind it. Lowell watches her go, a proud half- smile creeping onto his face as he sees the speed and agility with which she courses first one way and then the other across the frozen ground, she and the rabbit veering and swerving in perfect, mesmeric synchronicity. At the other side of the field, the rabbit fakes to go one way, and then shimmies the other, lunging sharply though a hole in a hedgerow. Lowell watches it go, and then sees Venus disappear off after it and away, and then he turns and walks back into the barn. At the bench, he pauses for a few more rasping, painful breaths, and then finds his can opener, and methodically opens three of the cans of food, one after the other. Leaving all but his tarp and the cans of food on the bench, he shuffles slowly toward the back of the barn. There, he lays down the tarp, tips the contents of each of the cans into a pile on the floor, and then lies down to sleep.